When No One is Left
by Dj-Narwhal
Summary: Twelve years after Sherlock has faked his death, he decides that he can not live without John any longer. He tells himself to stay and watch from afar, but he cannot decide what to do, to live with or without John.


"Now for the last time Sherlock, stay away from him" Mycroft ordered. He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "I sent you away to France for a reason, and you can't have your cover blown after all this time."

Sherlock sat there staring at his brother, "You expect me to do nothing?"

"I expect you to stay away from him" Mycroft said, "You've faked your death twelve years ago and you gone this far. I think it's time you've moved on, I know John has."

"He's married now I presume"

Mycroft nodded, "and has two little girls, a nice little family he has now."

Sherlock sat back in his chair and asked himself, _did John really leave me behind_? He sat and thought for a few minutes, and then found himself asking more questions.

"and Mrs. Hudson?"

"I'm sorry to say but," Mycroft paused, "she passed away four years ago"

"And Lestrade?"

"He was shot and killed six months ago"

I lump started to form in Sherlock's throat and his eyes started to water. He stood up and slid the chair out from under him. He glared at Mycroft, who stared back at him with his ever so always serious face.

"Sit brother, please."

Sherlock stood there, time stopped for a moment. He was breathing heavier, and his eyes started to water more.

_My only friends, _He thought to himself, _they're gone._

"You have a new life now, a new identity." Mycroft butted in on his thoughts, "James Wilson is who you are now, and you have to accept it"

Sherlock stood there for five more seconds, and turned around. He raced to the hallway.

"Stay away from John." Mycroft yelled as Sherlock made it to the main entrance. He looked down the hallway where Mycroft was.

"No." Sherlock spoke softly, "I cannot stay away from one man I love."

Sherlock made his way back to his apartment, along the way thinking about what went on earlier, and why he went to Mycroft, and it was all about John.

On the way home he recalled everything that happened three hours ago at the supermarket. He went down there to stock up on a few things. Along the isles he walked, and then he saw someone, a familiar someone, out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and sure enough standing there was John.

Sherlock couldn't believe what he saw. His heart skipped a beat and he froze.

_Stop it Sherlock, _He remembered saying to himself, _if he sees you, you're done._

But he continued to look at him from afar. John had changed a bit look wise, but also looked the same. He was still the short man Sherlock knew of, but now his face was covered with wrinkles, and his hair was more white then gray now. But yet he still was him. He wore a cream jumper, and it was the same one that he wore before twelve years ago. And then he saw that ever familiar cane.

John walked away, and Sherlock saw the limp. The limp was back, and it seemed worse almost. John wobbled down the aisle and Sherlock decided it was time for him to leave.

Sherlock laid on his bed, giggle slightly. He saw John again, and the first time in twelve years too. He smiled at the slightest thought of John, but yet his emotions were still all over the place.

_What if Mycroft is right,_ Sherlock thought to himself, _but how do I just stay away from John?_

Sherlock quickly stood up and grabbed his violin from a shelf. He carefully placed the violin under his chin and lifted up the bow. This normally would have helped, but something just didn't seem right. He tried setting the bow on the strings, tried playing a note, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to it.

Sherlock sighed and threw the violin on his bed. He ran towards the kitchen and picked up the longcoat which hung from the back of a chair. He threw it on and quickly checked his pockets for his wallet and phone, then headed out the door.

Sherlock found himself at a pub three streets away from his apartment. He sat at the bar staring at his drink, thinking about John. Only if he had a way just to talk to him, and tell him how much he missed him. But how? So many thoughts ran through his head, but all he wanted was to be with John. But after his death, how could he?

Sherlock sighed. He had no idea where to start, let alone what to do. He picked up the glass and twirled it around, then glugged what was left of it.

"Would you like anything else?" the female bartender said with a think Scottish accent.

He looked up at the bartender, but actually ended up looking past her. A mirror was hung behind the shelves of liquor, and he looked at himself for the first time in a long time. His hair, which was blond at the tips, but got darker at the roots, was combed back. His normally blue-green eyes were covered by contacts, making them brown, and popped out with the bags under his eyes. His face was rather scruffy, he needed to shave. And for the first time he realized he looked different.

"Are you alright?" The bartender quickly asked.

Sherlock nodded his head, "Yes" and said with a voice slightly higher pitched, "another scotch please"

The bartender sat the drink in front of him and he sat there staring at his drink again, leaning his face against his folded hands. The pub almost seemed silent for a moment, only two other people were in the pub, and they didn't seem to distract his thinking.

"Hey Doc" The bartender said as the door opened. Sherlock looked out of the corner of his eyes. A man walked in with a limp.

_John?_

Sherlock's heart skipped a beat when John walked over to the bar. He sat two stools away from Sherlock.

_Shit, _he was thinking to himself, _get yourself together. _

"Hey there," John said, turning towards Sherlock.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied.

"Do you mind if I ask what your name is?"

Sherlock shook his head, "James Wilson"

"Oh" John said, almost as if he were disappointed. "And there was no reason for it, I just like to know people"

_ Does he still remember me? _Sherlock asked himself, _No, he does remember. He wouldn't act like this, would he?_

"And your name?" Sherlock quickly added.

"Doctor John Watson" he said.

"Well Dr. Watson, it was nice knowing you" Sherlock said, "But I must be going"

"Wait" the bartender yelled, Sherlock froze above his seat, "It's only eight-thirty, surely you can stay for a little while." He stood there with a smile.

"Fine" Sherlock sat back in his seat.

"So James, how's the family?" The bartender asked.

"I don't have a family" Sherlock said, the bartender's face filled with surprise.

"Really?" She said, "I'd _kill _to have a man like you"

Sherlock kept silent. The bartender turned towards John, "And you doctor?"John hesitated for a moment.

"Well, it turns out things are great" He said sarcastically, "My wife has been cheating on me for the four years we've been together. Our two children, well they aren't really mine. And while I work my arse off, my wife is away with another guy. And after all that time too"

Sherlock looked at John and saw the pain in his eyes. John looked down and took a wallet out of his pocket.

"For him too, and keep the change" John said throwing a wad of money behind the bar. He grabbed his cane and limped out of the pub.

Sherlock raced after John, who didn't go far.

" John" Sherlock yelled, and quickly caught up to him, "John wait"

"What the hell do you want" John spat.

"I need to tell you something"

_Shit, _Sherlock thought, _why am I doing this?_

"Now let _me _tell you something" John said angrily, "for the past twelve years I've gone through hell, I lost a close friend, and after that I sat in my house for six years doing absolutely nothing. Then I finally got myself to get out, and then I met Margret. She was more a friend, and I never really loved her. But I still never got over him."

John paused, "I was in love with Sherlock Holmes."

John turned around and waddled away. Sherlock looked at his feet.

"Before you leave" Sherlock yelled walking towards him, making his voice normal again. "You asked for one more thing, one more miracle."

John stopped.

"Hello John."

He turned around and stared at disbelief.

"...Sherlock?"

He nodded. John's eyes started to water. He walked over to Sherlock, without a limp. He held his hand to his face.

And smacked him.

"What the hell was that for?" Sherlock yelled.

"What the hell was the last twelve years for?" John said, "After all that you fucking moron, I had to go through more therapy because of you."

"And you thought it was easy for me?"

They stared at each other for a while, looking into each other's eyes.

"Your eyes." John said, "They're br-"

"Contacts you moron"

John sighed, "I can't believe this…"

Sherlock stepped closer to John, looking down at him.

"Sherlock what the hell are you-"

Sherlock placed his lips on John's, stopping him in mid sentence. Everything stopped for a moment as they drew closer, wrapping their arms around each other. Their tongues touched, and Sherlock could taste the beer John drank. And they went, the world spinning around them. All he wanted was John, and for this moment of bliss, he had him all.

John slowly pulled away, and smiled at Sherlock.

"We're making out in the middle of the street Sherlock" John said, and they both started laughing. Sherlock was filled with happiness, and his stomach filled with butterflies.

"Oh and one more thing" John said, "I kinda need a place to stay"

"There's only one bedroom"

John kissed Sherlock, "I'm fine with that."

And the both walked towards the apartment, laughing, and talking along the way. They're day together were just beginning. And Sherlock could not wipe ridiculous smile off his face. Now his only worries were how he was going to explain to Mycroft about that night, but for now he thought of John, and the great time he'd know they'd spend together.


End file.
